So that’s that. He’s blaming me for this.
“Anything else?” I growl.
“No.” His one word sentence holds no tone. No feeling. And for a second, I think he might be just as defeated as I am.
As I make my way to the training room, I see Callie working with Lance. She’s smiling, doing her thing as she does. And I pause, Rodger Santos’s words echoing in my head.
Why don’t you ask her?
34
CALLIE
“So you’re all moved in?” Lance asks me while lying on the table in the training room.
He’s been having issues with his shoulders and asked for a massage. I don’t typically do just therapeutic massage, but Lance isn’t the type to take advantage of what I do. He also has shoulder blades tighter than fan belts, and if he doesn’t get them loosened up, he’s going to get injured.
“For the most part,” I say with a yawn. “We still need to finish the baby’s room, but almost everything else is done.”
Lance is also one of the only people I will talk openly with about the pregnancy. I’ve been strictly wearing scrubs recently, oversized and loose in all the right places. I’m not sure how many people are fooled by it, but I also don’t see a lot of eyes trailing to my midsection, either. It’s not a secret, but I’ve been the center of attention long enough. I’d like a break.
“Well, if you need any help, I can—” He groans as I press him into the table. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you ever thought of just being a massage therapist?”
“Doesn’t pay enough, and I’d get harassed even more than I already do.”
“Fair enough. But I’ll gladly pay for more of these. The coach has been running us ragged recently. I’m not sure if it’s punishment for all the press shit or because he’s trying to show off for Santos.”
“Spencer?” I immediately regret saying his name. Twice more and he’ll appear like a scarier, more evil Beetlejuice.
“Rodger,” he clarifies. “The more he wants us, the more he’ll pay… probably. I don’t actually know. Or care. I just want to play hockey.”
“Mm.” I don’t have much to say to that.
Since Spencer more or less broke into our apartment before being tossed out on his ass by Owen, I’ve gone back to the strategy of flying under the radar. I’m going to lay low, do my job, and steer clear of anyone by the last name of Santos.
“Things are going well with Owen, though?”
Now,thatI can talk about.
“Yeah,” I smile. “They really are.”
“When do I have to start writing my best man speech?”
My hands freeze on his shoulder. “Your what?”
“Oh, come on, I can hear the wedding bells from miles away.”
“What website is that nonsense headline from?” I shake my head. “It’s getting hard to keep up with all of these ‘anonymous sources’ who seem to know everything and absolutely nothing about my life.”
Last week, there was a rumor I was getting plastic surgery to look more like Summer. I can’t even begin to dissect the weirdness of that onion.
Lance rolls over on his stomach, grinning at me. “The source is me. I mean, maybe it’s not on this year’s calendar, but it’s obviously in the stars.”
I snort out a laugh, walking around the table to work out his neck. “We haven’t even talked about…” I gesticulate at the rough shape and idea of the word so I don’t have to say it out loud.
“Marriage?”
“Shh!” I look around even though we are alone. “I’m not trying to be the start of the next rumor, Lance. Plus, we haven’t talked about that. I don’t even think it’s on the table.”